Rubber Gloves and Tea Towels
by doesitsaycolonel
Summary: The way to a Vampires heart is beset by many obstacles. Especially when its out of reach for the person who wants to get at it.This may be the final chapter and possibly on to other vampire things? May continue. Think they reach a short term conclusion !
1. Chapter 1

First BH story for me - not sure where its going..yet.

Dont own it obviously, nothing to do with me, I wrote this in denial.

Hope its fun if I get where Im going.

**Four Letter Words...**

"Come onnnn... Annie?"

Mitchell was standing in his usual drably dressed exasperation, hair sticking out at all angles, curls vaguely defined, for all the world as if he had fallen out of bed.

Well, he had really. Not long ago. Maybe he had been pushed.

"I bet you can't even talk dirty. I dare you." His relaxed Irish drawl made his "a" and "i"s elongated.

Annie, arms crossed, pursed lips, regarded him with a frustration bourne of many sorts of frustration developed in recent nights.

She tapped her foot. If she had breath she would have huffed. She liked how he spoke. Despite gritting her (sometimes) non corporeal teeth she liked the way he spoke to distraction.

They were facing each other across the bar of Honolulu Heights. Erstwhile b and b, a half way house to random supes. At least it seemed that way lately. There must have been an arrow on googlemaps for this address.

"If you are one quantum spark short of normality, heres the place to rest your weary half life."

That's what George said anyway as he knew about such things. Long words, that is.

Enunciating the P, with her curling lip and generous mouth, she replied.

"Potty mouth. Huh! Why should I ?"

Mitchell went glassy eyed when he watched her mouth for too long. He just wanted her for dinner, lunch, tea, breakfast, elevenses, brunch all the mealtimes you could mention in a sexual, and purely mealtime for a vampire kind of way. He was trying to be good and she didn't help. He was so weak.

His eyes widened as he woke himself up from his millisecond of remembering the attempts at dalliance of the night before. He had been hanging around George far too long. He didn't dally.

"George, George.."

Hands out in frustration he took a step around the bar, towards his friend on the sofa. George looked over his glasses, and placed his newspaper down on his crossed knee with a form of finality.

Looking for an ally, Mitchell pleased with George,

" Have you ever heard anything so pitiful, so depressingly typical, of today's pc crazy generation; she cant even say a decent curse word."

George liked these conversations. Didn't matter what they were about. There was humour,verbosity sometimes lacking in his workaday life, and some sexual tension quite clearly not directed at him. He didn't really want that unless it was to do with Nina and then he couldn't cope with tension anyway really – his voice tended to go up an octave if anyone looked at him the way Annie was looking at Mitchell.

"Mitchell."

There was a clipped pause, so Mitchell knew he was, seriously, on the wrong side of his friend.

"The words 'decent' and 'curse' should not be used in the same sentence. They cancel each other out."

Mitchell, sneered with confusion, then escalated to wanting to bite George's hand off as his friend indicated haughtily to Annie with teacher like mannerisms, as if she was an example in a show and tell class.

"Why should Annie, a lady of tender years, new to the ethereal plane, unaware of her future spiritual destinations, be blackmailed into discussing four letter words for your sexual gratification, in summary, so you can feel, ahem, fulfilled."

He actually said, "ahem".

Mitchell looked once more at George with his hooded eyes, and he gave up.

"Its not that Annie, its not sordid like some," ..pointed look at George who had raised his eyebrows, "people seem to think. This should really be private, why are we talking down here so that **random others** can join in."

Pointed look, bold letters, George's direction.

George sneered in a similar manner to Mitchell then opened his paper and ignored them both again.

Annie pointed upstairs and vanished.

"Thanks George, thanks a lot. Were trying to find some way of ...connecting.."

He was about to continue when George interjected,

"You mean, having sex".

Mitchell nodded but continued as if embarrassed,

"connecting... 'cos we haven't worked out the, tangible, .. things.. we need to work out."

He stood for a moment longer before realizing his resolution was not going evolve in the living room and he rushed upstairs to his bedroom.

George tutted, and rustled his newspaper into order.

Vampires. So uptight when it came to talking about body parts and sex. Maybe it was just John Mitchell who was a bit of a prude.

Next.. the bedroom..


	2. Chapter 2

Still don't know really where this is going. I'm going to try and keep it to 5 chapters.

Really want some Nina in it as she is such a good humourous counterpoint to George and also she recognizes the darkness in Mitchell. I still think he is using Annie a bit in the series but he just doesn't know it.

Don't own anything apart from 4 snakes and a dodgy car.

**The Bedroom**

Any one who appeared around the door of Mitchell's room would have seen the mess.

Actually, you couldn't really open the door without it getting a bit jammed, the trainers and boots acted as a doorstop; the socks, ( yes, he wore socks, but they were not purchased from Tescos) made the door scrape in an unsettling way against the acrylic carpet that set George's teeth on edge.

(While on the subject, George couldn't stand the way Mitchell dragged and shuffled his feet around when he didn't have his boots on. It was as if he couldn't be arsed to propel himself around with the appropriate kinetic force to get the job done.)

Anyway, on this occasion if the door had opened there would have been T shirts, socks, boots, and a vase in the way. Annie was responsible for the vase. She had propelled it at Mitchell the night before in dramatic representation of her lack of "completion".

Annie couldn't use words that the boys did to explain orgasm, sex, male parts, female parts, or any bodily functions including blowing ones nose and the loo.

She could swear , (when given motivation), but it was never for vicarious reasons, or just for the joy of using the word.

Mitchell loved her apparent naïvety. He also wanted to smash it to pieces when he really wanted a good... shaggy dog story. That was how Annie managed to say rude words – she found ways around them.

So – back to the story – if one had made it in the room, one would have found Annie on the bed, legs stretched out like her loved one, crossed at the ankles. Propped against the bed head, pillows behind her, chewing her nails. They always appeared the same the next morning. It was amazing how much she was like a vampire in a non bloody way.

The door opened, dragging socks and T shirts with it. Annie could imagine George's teeth grinding.

"You could have knocked."

Exasperation on Mitchell's face.

"Its my fucking bedroom!"

Annie looked at him with an exaggerated turn of her head.

"There's **that** word again."

Mitchell shook his head as if in a palsy,

"No, no, don't try and act like some sort of Mother Theresa Annie. You have used that word before."

Annie attended her nails, and mumbled,

" I meant the word bedroom. The source, of all of my joy."

Mitchell pushed and shoved the door shut. He looked at it and shoved it again, then gave up – there was too much crap in the way.

"Annie, I'm trying so hard to get this right but its not exactly conventional."

He sat on the side of the bed and put his head in his hands, exaggerating his long hair as it fell around his hands and face. At that point she started to soften.

He looked vulnerable. This was dangerous. All the way along with their short "relationship" Annie knew she could never take him for granted – he was too volatile to be put into a box, too passionate to be accepted on face value, too dangerous to be given free reign over her heart. She was guarded and maybe this was the reason she held back from what he wanted.

Annie knew he had done something for which he wanted absolution. She could say the words but she didn't really know what was in his heart – you needed that to grant someone forgiveness. Annie was beyond some temporal restraints, she hoped she would gain the wisdom to see him apart from his nature. Right now, she was human, she was physical and she loved him. She lived in the now. That's all she could hope for and understand while nearly human.

She reached out to touch his hand, as it cupped his cheek.

"Mitchell, love, I'm not the same as you."

He covered her hand with his left hand: turned around to face her, placing their respective hands ( three at this stage..)in his lap.

"OK, lets try something different. You've thought about what I want all the time – like you can't.. feel anything, as if you cant, " he searched for the words " feel the same way that I do."

He looked like an idea was about to erupt, but Annie couldn't honestly see where he was going.

She loved doing things for people. She got her jollies from the smile from his first cup of coffee, the grin from George when she reminded him where the phone charger was, the startled look from Nina when she remembered the hobnobs. ( For some reason she had discovered that werewolves liked oaten biscuits.)

Her joy, was from others.

His idea was now over the caldera.

"Maybe you are more solid with intensity Annie – people can see you when you are OK with who you are. Maybe it's the same with what and who you feel."

Annie's famous eyebrow raised with some consternation.

"Its a big jump I know," he continued, "but I want you to feel something – i want you to feel me."

Annie really couldn't help it, he was being so sweet and her mind was in the gutter though she would never say it.

She looked at his crotch. Yes, he was a bit excited. Surely jeans that tight even with someone who didn't have a traditional circulatory system couldn't be good. A bit of relief must be in order.

She smiled her conciliatory smile. Annie knew he could read her as well as she read him.

Judging books and covers, pot calling kettle black etc.

"Okay Mitchell. Lets try again."

"Okay, okay, " Mitchell was prepared to try something though he didn't really know what.

He was numb from the waist down due to inactivity and desire for activity.

Plus he really wanted her to be happy. This was a bit surreal to him. Maybe he did love her and it was a thing that he hadn't really thought of as it would mean a commitment and vampires were all about the quick fix and oh god he had to do something now before he said something he didnt know if he meant...

"Annie, .." he breathily murmured as he shunted up against her with no restraint and kissed her with a lack of decency, that she responded to as if she hadn't seen the like before with surprise and a little inexperience..

Tounges and hair pulling and hitting the bed head moments later, they reached a small impasse as they had before, and tried to get around it in a different way.

Annie's clothes.

"Annie, you've got to want it, you change when you do something different, I love it when you have no sleeves, I want to see your arms Annie _think_ it for me.."

Her wrap had gone and she had a white skimpy top on like something from M and S underwear collection like that Christmas advert – actually exactly like that Christmas advert, and his hands were all over her and he picked her up and they were against the wall... up under her top, what were his thumbs doing, it was too much ...

Mitchell found his nose pressed against the wall, breathless, his hard on uncomfortably aware of the imperfections in the plaster, and a lack of an Annie shaped obstacle causing a hollow in his heart.

Now this was a surprise to me as well. Next chapter will be funny and I'm going for Nina in it. It may or may not work. If anyone has ideas where this should have gone please let me know and Ill rewrite it or continue in a satisfactory manner in the future.

Eds note

Odd time to mention it but this is really helping me to come to terms with the passing away of my dad – he went two weeks ago and its too surreal to acknowledge at the moment. Not saying that for sympathy just ..? All we are all trying to do is to reach out and connect eh? That's why this series means so much to me. Also met one of my best chums through FF!


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for your fabulous reviews and good wishes. Things are still surreal.

While writing I am listening to season 2 True Blood music. Ooer..Will be going to New Orleans in April though unfortunately will not make it to Shreveport and Eric.

**Under the Bedroom – a tale of listening folk.**

"George, George.. can you hear anything?"

Nina had just got back from her late shift.

" Nina, what are talking about, oh flower of my heart?"

"Listen. Shut up and listen."

Werewolf ears pricked up.

Not literally. As they were not werewolves at the moment. Nevertheless, George's ears were a little hairy.

His ears aged a bit more than he did ( old man, hairy ears corollary) and though not much else on his body was hairy ( praise to the non hairy goddesses thought Nina) his ears did make up for everything else.

A little bit of a trim was normally in order at the full moon. No-one knew about this apart from Mitchell who had caught George mid trim one day. Also, half of Windsor Terrace as well, from when Mitchell was in his "share all" mode with the neighbours in Bristol. And Annie of course. And Herrick who had a really, _really_ ,good view post change, when his head was leaving his body.

" I cant hear anything Nina, as there is ..._nothing to hear!" _George smiled at this point as he was quoting from Red Dwarf.

Nina looked blankly at him. She did not understand the intricacies of humour that made up the boys from the Dwarf. And quite probably didn't care.

"George, are you being deliberately dense?", she asked rhetorically.

This was her best source of humour and she thanked God for it.

" I'm trying to listen to see if Mitchell and Annie are getting their err..."

At this point Nina did her jazz hands as she wanted to highlight her comment without doing airquotes which she despised,

"G_roove on_".

George put his newspaper down again and sighed.

"Nina, their private bedroom lives are causing them enough concerns, without worrying about if we can hear them as well."

He paused for a minute.

"But, now that you mention it, I cant .. hear anything. And there was definitely something in the air. "

George tried to dismiss it with a casual half shake of his head at first , then expressed his concern with a rise in intonation.

"There cant be anything wrong, surely.. surely. No, no, do you think there's something wrong? Nina?"

Minute shake of her head and slow close of eye lids later,

"No. George. What's the worst that can happen – maybe he's silently killed her again and is drinking her non existent blood? Perhaps he's decided to recruit her even though she can't eat or drink anything."

Nina frowned as if something had just dawned on her.

She was sitting on the arm of the sofa, and hadn't even taken off her coat yet. Surprisingly she liked to indulge in gossip sometimes.

"Actually George, what can they do. Together I mean. I've seen them kiss, Annie _can_ hold onto things ..." making a rather obvious motion with her hand.

She looked at George pointedly until realization finally crept into his eyes, and then raised her own eyes heavenwards at his slow uptake.

"She's not exactly substantial, how does she know what's going on in that area with her..."

"Lady parts?" George piped in.

"Oh for Gods sake George, we work in a hospital. What are we; 12?"

George shifted in his seat uncomfortably. And screwed his face up.

"Its Annie, and Mitchell. "

"You don't talk about things like that when its to do with your friends."

Nina finally got up and started to take her coat off, then threw it on the chair.

God I need a drink she thought to herself heading for the kitchen. All of this listening was hard work.

"What's in it for her, is what I'm trying to say?"

George mused in reply.

"I think that might have been one of the reasons they were arguing earlier."

As Nina was prizing the cork out of a bottle of red wine, (almost with her bare teeth she was so desperate) George suddenly ran into the kitchen, his newspaper scattering out behind him like really big confetti.

"Nina I just heard a really, _really_ big bang."

With the bottle in one hand and a really full glass in the other, Nina looked like she was beyond caring, as her tiredness kicked in.

"Maybe they just got really, _really_ lucky George. Just like you will tonight, fella," she gave him a really obvious wink, "if you make me something to eat."

She then sashayed back into the living room, while George turned around to follow her with his eyes and open mouth.

Thank you for listening, as Frasier once said.

I wonder what the noise was... I'm waiting to hear what it was myself, and sooner or later I may explain what the rubber gloves and tea towels are all about!


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for your reviews – I intend to reply...

Chapter the 4th wherein our hero and heroine are genuflecting their navels, and the cause of the noise... but I still am not explaining the rubber gloves...

Chapter 4

**The Hallway Incident**

Annie popped into her room and slumped down onto her overstuffed chair. She was miraculously overdressed in as many clothes as her brain could create for her. All grey of course, and they were variants on what she died in. Annie had often thought that when she was under pressure, or stressed, her consciousness did the only thing it could think of to protect her - apart from vanishing, she instead went to a virtual M and S and stocked up on woollies.

"Stupid stupid stupid. No, no, why did you do that and panic, he was trying so hard.."

as the tears cascaded down her face, and vanished as they left her chin.

Whenever something left her, within a millisecond, it vanished. Her mind was keeping her ether together. She wiped her nose with her sleeve – it didn't matter she thought, no-one had to do the washing on that.

Surely she could control her stability. She knew after that business with Owen she was affected when her confidence faltered.

She loved Mitchell, she trusted him to tell her what he was thinking, he wouldn't do to her what Owen did...

Annie stuck out her chin and felt empowered. Think yourself solid would be her new motto.

"I'm going out that door and I'm going to do to him what he wants to do to me."

This was her new mission statement.

Annie stood up, and the door slammed hard in her face.

With a frown on her tear soaked face, she went to open the bedroom door – this was unusual as most doors were open to her without thinking. It must mean that her confidence was not as high as she thought – or maybe something was trying to protect her. The door handle was slippery in her grasp, and after three tries at catching the jamb by surprise, when it wasn't looking, she damned it solidly and poofed into the hallway instead to find...

**A few minutes earlier...**

Mitchell was lying on his bed in the dark. He hadn't bothered to throw his jeans onto the floor along with the rest of his wardrobe; he had just unzipped them. He was so distracted that he had forgotten to get undressed.

Annie took tremendous pleasure (when she was in a good mood) in tidying up his room, marvelling at how a man with so few clothes could make such a mess. Often his gloves appeared in unusual places, ( down the back of the sofa, stuck with George's socks).She never knew (until recently) what ever happened to his underwear, and she surmised that they must normally have made it into some mysterious wash basket.

However, in the past few weeks she discovered that he just didn't have any underwear.

At all.

Apart from a few pairs of boxers that George had purchased for him, on her behalf, for the past few Christmases as a quirky Annie joke. Well, that saved on the laundry, a bit. She tried not to think about that too much.

Mitchell was still lying on the bed. Staring at the dark ceiling. He could see a bit more in the dark than the average human, but considering all he saw on this occasion was a bit of mould in the corner and a crack that followed the line of the rafters above him, it didn't make him jump for joy.

He bit his lip, and drew blood. That didn't help.

What could he do that would show that he cared for and loved his friend without giving her the impression that he was sex starved and after her blood, and how would he get to do something about it.

This was ultimately the bottom line. He mentally drew up a list.

Be celibate and platonic about the whole thing.

Scratch Number one on the list for obvious reasons. What was the point of the list if he had that one on there.

Attack George instead

Scratch Number three on the list. Nina would object, and George would make a face at him and just smells of dog anyway so lets not even think about that.

Try again at the threesome idea, after he a good feed. No, that kind of defeated the object of being good, and there's no guarantee he could control himself, and he couldn't share Annie anymore,..he wanted to look in her big brown/blue eyes when he...

He sat up.

Her eyes changed when she was angry.

Angry and OK = Solid Annie.

Upset= Squishy invisible Annie

"You stupid,blind, invisible arse" he said to the mirror as he stood up. He was really speaking to himself but as usual he didn't see his mussed up bed head reply. He headed to her room.

Mitchell pulled open the door, after removing some detritus from around it. He paused to do his zip up. To find Annie staring at him from the end of the corridor as he was ...doing his zip up.

"Was it good for you?"

She had her hands on her hips and raised her Anniebrow.

"What? Jeeesus Annie.. Cant I go for a pee?" pretending to head in the opposite direction to her room, he took a half step, and then stood uncomfortably for a moment.

Annie gave her guffaw response, " Yeah, right. Doing it up"

"OK, you got me." He paused when he remembered the zip. "Nooo, I wasn't .. " he was then confronted with Annielipcurl.

"Look , look, that doesn't matter. I wanted to explain.. to tell you that, I'm different. If you want to wait, I'll wait and we can work out how to ..connect..." (sexy smile attempt no.1 ) "...how we want to. Its not like we haven't got time, sweetheart."

He tried his sexy smile no 2, then he gave up as he knew it was too much of a nervous one to work.

Annie took a deep unnecessary breath in and started to walk provocatively towards Mitchell, stretching her arms out to brush the walls of the hallway with her finger tips .

" The time is now, Mitchell. Are you ready for me? I have some ideas."

He reacted by straightening up from his customary slouch and looking sidelong at the approaching ghost. Small smile...

Annie decided now that this wasn't quick enough for her and she poofed all of the three remaining three yards right into his surprised face, so that he fell backwards down the short stairway that led to the loo, and grabbed her to try and save himself.

Mitchell hit the floor hard with his rear end, and gave the nosey werewolves something to think about downstairs. Leaning back on his elbows, nose to nose with Annie leaning over him, Mitchell looked scared – for someone who was potentially the most dangerous in the house, that was a bit of a score on Annie's part.

She looked deeply into his eyes and Mitchell was pleased to see her eyes were clear blue crystal.

" Err, Annie, I think you're a bit more solid than usual," then he made a face, "and my arse is so sore..."

Annie giggled at his frown, she couldn't help it , then scrambled to help him up, thereby pulling him into her embrace, stroking his hair all the way down as he rested his chin wearily on her shoulder.

"Let me see what we can do about that "


	5. Chapter 5

_So... sorry for delay in update Saintixe56 and anyone else who was waiting – you are very kind to be waiting.. due to life stuff and also just that last episode ( sob) I keep wanting to write darker so I was losing ones occasional humourous mojo. _

_Mojo has sort of reappeared but will be dark mojo later I fear. Plus I want to write a bit better like innit so am trying to remember that spell check is not a literary god. _

_Unlike George - he is a food diva do you not think gentle reader.. do you think he does Delia or Nigella?_

_Mm. Cant wait for our vampire dwarf. He's really going to be beardy isn't he? Finally coming through on all those promises of 5 o'clock shadow. Wonder if he will have a dwarvish paunch. I can also just imagine him as a diminutive hairy vampire going for ones leg like a demented terrier. Chance would be a fine thing._

_Thank you again for watching.. I so wanted to use Mitchell's last line of dialogue in this chapter...think it also deserves to be a story title._

**Chapter 5**

**The Kitchen is not just for cooking part 1..**

Nina and George were getting cosy on the under stuffed sofa.

After a brief masterchef experiment, George had managed to rustle up a curry ( sweet potato, chick peas, curry spices from scratch not out of a jar) and the kitchen god that was George, had one bowl with two forks ready within 40 minutes.

As George sat feeding Nina, they looked deeply into each others eyes over the wonderful aromas coming from the bowl. He felt her body tense with the last forkful he gave her; Nina's legs rested over his lap in a way that increased his concentration on her pleasingly furrowed brow.

"Mmm, this evening, my darling George, you have earned your nectar points."

Nina ran her tongue over her lips after her last morsel, slowly, and George's eyes nearly popped through and verily shattered his glasses.

"Well dearest, I will have to think, how best, to spend them."

George was doing his best impersonation of a lothario although perhaps it would have fallen short for anyone other than Nina.

He was about to move in again for another well earned smooch when,

"Oh for God's sake you two, get a room!"

Mitchell's dulcet tones echoed from the doorway, as he relaxed back against its frame pulling Annie to him in a bear hug. The satisfied smile on Mitchell's face illustrated that the past 40 minutes for them was spent canoodling in Mitchell's bedroom. Needless to say, the bedroom didn't benefit from it. The mess that was his floor had intensified and he had knocked over some cold and slightly mouldy tea when leaping on to the bed. Annie had actually tutted and mid entertainment had wiped it up.

In brief; entertainment consisted of cuddle, bit of a grope, with multiple kissing opportunities.

Mitchell felt quite a bit of pressure in the appropriate areas, and a lot of tickling. Being undead oddly made him more sensitive to touch as his heartbeat wasn't getting in the way.

Normally for a vampire, it was other heartbeats you were looking for while looking for the right moment to drown out the world... So with Annie, all he had to think about was her reaction to being touched, and caressed, by him.

Annie's lack of breath didn't mean that she couldn't be breathless for a period of time – she always felt, (when alive) that the best bit of making love was in the anticipation – even if that was all she had, she would give it her best shot to make it work for both of them.

There was a small moment of silence as Annie's attention returned to the room after musing. Fork hit the bowl and the eyes of the diners turned towards the door, where a grinning ghost was then nose to nose with her man.

"Well Nina, my little popacatepetal..I think we should head to bed."

He shook his head slightly with every word in the manner of a slightly bothered and twitchy owl.

George sat up slowly after gently moving petite legs from his lap, and placing them on the floor, with their thankful owner thankfully attached. Nina stood up with a small satisfied sigh.

"George, you are such a smart arse. Also, as usual you are correct, although I am currently not tired."

Her eyebrows crept up in a good attempt to meet her hairline, as Nina emphasized her point.

" I think... you, "

This was punctuated by a finger tap on his nose,

"..are going.."

Another tap,

"... to collect on those nectar points."

George's answer was an exaggerated "Oh?" followed by a smile then realization.. "Ohhh!"

As they headed towards the kitchen taking the spoils of the meal with them, he glanced back at the pair currently making their own imprints on the couch. With a giggle from him followed by a determined Nina chase up the stairs, George admitted to himself that he was worried about his friends, and was now relieved that they had found something that approached normality.

Annie and Mitchell slumped into the tired and worn cushions, and sat grinning at each other. The cushions were in danger of a bit more action.

Their grins sobered to smiles as Annie ran her fingers down the edge of his checked shirt, playing with the buttons as if trying to remind her self how to undo them. His eyes followed her movements, and he raised an eyebrow in response.

Annie continued to brush her fingertips slowly down the shirt until they gently rested on his belt buckle.

"Err, Annie... should we ..?" he half laughed and smiled through his query.

"Come... this way." she whispered in his ear.

She further answered his question, to his "whumpf" of surprise, by pulling him to his feet by his belt . Moving with an exaggerated swing of her hips, she stepped backwards towards the kitchen, through the swing doors, while he followed her lead.

Annie tilted her smile in a way that made Mitchell melt, and continued to chat conversationally as if musing to herself,

"I've had this idea for a while now...OWW .. dammit"

She was unable to finish her sentence due to a badly placed chair; then she regrouped , hardly missing a beat,

"...given that there are some things that I feel _**via**_ you, and you know that I can carry and _**touch **_things .."

She paused, pushing him gently down into the chair she had accidently met the minute before.

Annie moved backwards to the sink, theatrically waving her hands in time with the beat of her explanation.

"I want to prove to you, that we can be normal, and just like everyone else, can go into any room in the house..."

Mitchell nodded with amusement and anticipation, feeling that she had reached a similar conclusion to him, as she turned to rustle in the draw behind her..

"... And get our groove on."

With dramatic emphasis Annie waved a rubber glove with one hand, and a pizza cutter with the other .

He smiled, and bit his bottom lip, looking at her with hooded eyes, while Annie frowned at what she had excitedly picked up.

"I hope you found that by mistake love, or this is gonna get even crazier and kinkier than I thought".

He paused for effect.

"You know I _**don't, **_do marigolds."

She squeaked in response as he lunged for her, unable to hold himself back.

_PS For those from anywhere other than merry old UK nectar points are to do with a food store loyalty scheme._

_Apologies for many split infinitives I'm sure._

_Will try really hard to carry on with humour...! TTFN and enjoy that cup of tea.. you know you want to!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello. Thank you again for all of your kind words and assistance. I am constantly awed by this community._

_All of these shenanigans do not come very easily to me so I apologise if its all a bit stilted. Ive worked and reworked worked on this. It still needs work and I know its not exactly what I wanted but I wanted to post and I think I'm actually getting to a point rather than a process now. I know people say its about the journey but its also nice to know where you are going. Thank you again for your help and comments._

_By the way- hope you have seen AT on the Hobbit website - bit of riding, bit of acting, looks like they are all enjoying themselves._

**Chapter 6**

The kitchen part 2

George and Nina had made it to the bedroom without too many incidents.

Just a stubbed toe and banged head, and that was even before he had made it up the first flight of stairs.

As he shut the door, and Nina settled herself back on the bed, arranging the cushions to lounge in a 'come hither' fashion, George reflected on the events of the evening.

He smiled and approached her, with his best Roger Moore eyebrow, as he theatrically removed his glasses.

" Nina, my lovely, we are not going to be disturbed this evening by Annie making endless tea, or by Mitchell pacing in the attic. Our friends have their own early evening entertainment worked out."

Nina frowned, scrunching her face as if working out a crossword conundrum. She adjusted herself on the bed, moving back to its edge, as it creaked dramatically. George mirrored her perplexed look, and joining her, thought maybe he had ruined the moment.

"What is that all about George, really. What is it with Mitchell and the pacing and the brooding? I mean, more than you might reasonably expect from a 100 year old ex murderer?"

George shook his head in an unfortunate resemblance of a confused collie that didn't believe his ears.

"Nina, I have to say that I am surprised at you, after all we've been through, to judge other people .. oh .. oh ...you didn't, you actually said ex.. ex murderer?"

He was surprised that she had played a positive note in Mitchell's direction, albeit slightly out of tune.

"Yes George, that's exactly what I said. It's odd. With all that he's done for us and Annie, that he's still in this house trying to be normal; that Annie is quite clearly blind to his frankly, doubtful hygiene routine ..and it's also just damn odd that he still feels that he has to hide something."

Nina reached up to play with George's left ear. He was quite fond of that.

"Why is Mitchell so, so...Heathcliffe about everything? I'm not his greatest fan but what's bothering him?"

George sighed and reached towards his beloved.

"Maybe he just needed his Nina. And maybe... he's found her."

They then ceased to think of Mitchell, or his unkempt hair...as downstairs his hair was developing a wild life of it's own.

To a visitor who may have wandered downstairs, the temperature would seem to have dropped with each flight. Reaching the living room it became cooler than usual and full of ozone as if by the sea.

It was crisp and snappy in a way that you only really get on a frosty morning; but it wasn't freezing, it was just about right if you had a light sweater on. Some people might say it was cold enough for gloves. Perhaps fingerless ones.

The heating never really worked in Honolulu Heights – it was normally too cold or too hot – in such an old three storey building meant there were always highs and lows in the 1970's central heating – George had remarked it was bit like Everest base camp in the kitchen, "bit balmy, could be nippy in the evening"; with the summit, the attic, worthy of a serious duffle coat.

It was true to say that the attic bedroom was normally devoid of air for reasons currently best left alone.

There was a snarl of somewhat inhuman proportions that reeled its way out of the swing doors, making them creak gently. The movement was a response to the electricity in the air.

Not metaphoric electricity – real electricity.

The pressure dropped with another low growl from a throat used to complaining about cold coffee.

The TV pftizzed and smoked.

Sparks came off the wall sockets, from the overhead lights, from the toaster that wasn't plugged in and from the tea urn that was bubbling away quite nicely thank you very much.

"Tea, tea, I have to turn it off ..it's too hot.."

Annie whispered to the god of beverages in the midst of an ecstasy that wouldn't have been apparent to anyone looking through the window. The imaginary voyeur would have seen, in short, one person getting to know the sink rather well.

"Annie, don't even think about it, I don't want you to feel relaxed, I don't want you to calm down, I want you to feel this ..."

Mitchell's voice was muffled by Annie's sweater, he rubbed himself like a cat in her neck, he breathed in her crisp scent made up of coffee and camomile...he paused to remember that one.. ah George's weird druggy tea.. then applied himself afresh.

Stood between Annie's legs, held there by her crossed ankles, he hardly needed their encouragement to push as close as he could to her twisting and needy body.

Without even realizing it, his canines drew partially down and snagged her collar, in lazy circular movements he made it to her neck and she drew back from him as if needing a different perspective.

Annie perched on the edge of the sink gripping the back of Mitchell's messed up head, apparently to steady herself. She was actually receiving his mental signals loud and clear and he really wasn't into being steady. This was caused by her other hand down the front of his jeans confirming, for Annie, his (usual) lack of underwear.

He could feel her touch; the (marigold) gloves were, as they say, on.

"Annie, love, I need .. we need more than this, I cant take more waiting.."

The substance of that which was Annie merged with the edges of the solid being that was Mitchell. Like a hazy fringe, as if they were in a mist, an indefinable breaking of boundaries that was their bodies representation of their emotional state.

She felt.. what he felt... that she felt... and they were in a potentially explosive feedback loop.

"Mitchell, Mitchell .. I'm nearly.. we're going to ...!"

At that moment Mitchell's control blew; he looked into Annie's eyes for her own conclusion and saw obsidian looking back at him.

_Mm. still not sure how I feel about this one. However, have half written the next one._

_Hope everyone is enjoying their dinner or breakfast. Think I will do some packing for Texas, New Orleans and LV. Anyone got a decent map?_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hello again. This was half written so I wanted to post before holiday. Not sure if its the end or not. Will get back to you on that one._

_Thank you again for reviews and I intend to spend the next few days replying properly and asking further advice._

_Cheers! And the tea towel! ( Bit of swearing at the end)._

**Chapter 6**

**Kitchen – the aftermath and the washing up**

"We're going to. going to.. comFY CHAIR!"

In her outburst of passion and unusual vocabulary Annie was too over come to notice Mitchell fall away from her in shock and anger.

He spun around in spur of the moment fury and slammed his gloved fist into the nearest piece of defenceless kitchen equipment; with a **_whumpf_** of tortured metal and vampire, and a hiss of steam, the tea urn got it in the solar plexus.

Annie, now acutely aware of the loss of his body and mind, fell forward from her precarious position on the edge of the sink and stumbled to the floor.

Gathering herself back together she tried to figure out what went wrong. Or what went right and somehow left a bad taste on her mouth.

"What happened .. Mitchell ?"

He looked at the tea urn with his sore fist wrapped inside it. The thing had just boiled courtesy of Annie's enthusiasm. At that moment, Mitchell knew he had to compose himself. She had picked up on his passion, and unfortunately his blood lust was his part of his passion. They were tied inextricably together and he hated himself for it.

When his eyes had faded a moment later, he turned with a smile and a burning sensation in his knuckles, flexing them against the already repairing burns. He had a vain hope that he may avoid the inevitable conversation.

He changed the subject - it seemed the best short term thing to do.

"Annie, A_nnnie_, love... comfy chair? What was that? Do you mean that one in your room? That chairs a bit small I guess, but I'm game if you are. Hang on, darlin, did you mean ... huh I get it its your way of saying.."

He had that look on his face that he hated.

As if trying to cajole someone into giving up what they wanted and turn it around for his desires. He saw Annie's expression as she saw it in him too, and immediately wiped it from his face. Sarcasm was not a good response to seeing undirected, and misplaced murder in someone else's eyes.

Annie didn't want to be in a lie. She knew something was odd – it was obvious – he had drew away from her the moment she had her version of her happy moment. It wasn't anything she had really felt before – apart from the fact she had not had an orgasm as a non-corporeal being, it was still hands down better than anything she had felt when alive. That had to mean something in her existence on a number of levels.

What makes you heart want to beat – what drives it beyond mere biology? This was something she wanted to find out about as she had not much of a chance when she _was_ alive.

"I meant what you thought I meant."

Despite herself, she smiled nervously,

"I still get embarrassed by using words to express those things that shouldn't need words".

Her honesty felt like a punch in the stomach. He felt like that tea urn.

Mitchell looked down and at the same time zipped up his fly. It seemed an inappropriate thing to do, but he did it without thinking. That was possibly the problem. Some things came naturally to him. Love plus sex equals blood and satisfaction. It was built into his genetic make up now.

But surely that was the point of being human, having a brain to reason? To decide what was instinctive and to say, no, I am more than that, I choose not to do that?

"I'm sorry, I saw something that made me realize how much you read from me, you felt me more than anyone else has before. Annie I don't want to infect you with this madness, this desire for violence; this .. this love makes us one person and I don't know if that's the right thing.."

Annie felt uncomfortable with his honesty. Maybe this was what being in love was all about; finding out things you didn't like about one another and dealing with them?

"Well, what _is_ it with _me_ and volatile men?"

She meant it to come out as humour but inevitably with her insecurity it came out as crooked as her smile. Annie had said it once before in different circumstances.

Mitchell felt she was acknowledging his fears but of course his ego had to question it.

"What do you mean?."

'Bloody vampire insecurity' as Nina would have put it. In many ways Mitchell and Annie were better matched than they realized.

Annie stepped back both figuratively and literally. As she was essentially a person who hated causing hurt, and she had been cowed and used by Owen because of it, she was automatically scared and conciliatory, and looked down with a shy glance back up at him.

"It's a thing. It's a thing I said when I didn't understand what was going on before you, silly.."

Mitchell tried to meet her half way as he knew he agreed with her. This was dangerous; being vulnerable and a killer was something he had always danced around by striking out before it became a problem. This was new ground for him. His vulnerability had always been his conscience, a luxury that Herrick had always despised.

"So, Annie, you're saying that you don't know what's going on? That's what I'm scared of as well, I don't know if this is right.?"

Annie shook her head, leaning as if tired back against the sink. Mitchell still kept his distance and that scared _he_r even more.

"It's not that, I just want to be normal. I've just wanted someone who would wait for me to be in the right place. And here _you _are. I cant quite believe it. "

It didn't matter that she was agreeing with his gut instinct, he felt his values were being questioned.

"So I'm some sort of consolation prize ?"

That was a mistake; sarcasm again. His bloody hurt pride. His bloody vampire ego. His bloody vampire past made him the messed up 20 something with the memories of the past 100 years. You would think he would know better and understand a good thing when he saw it.

Annie's eyes widened as she hugged herself, wrapping her arms where his should have been.

"Mitchell, I don't know why I said that, will you just hold me? "

He put his arms around her and remembered when Nina left George for the first time to go to CenSSa.

Rocking her gently side to side, as she rested her head on his shoulder,

"We're not the only ones, y'know. Nina said something to me when she was leaving George that time .. what was it "..

He frowned as he remembered,

"She said that she loved our George so much, she practiced writing their names, like Mr and Mrs George Sands.. "

He smiled and looked down at Annie as she returned it, then sobered as he remembered what she said next.

"But when she saw him she wanted to tear chunks of flesh from his face. George understood that and let her go. He let her go. But she came back."

Annie held him even tighter. She was getting better at avoiding getting squishy and this was a good time to practice it.

"Annie, love, I want you more than I could want you if we were both alive, and on the same plane. This thing is _all_ about understanding what we are, and were, and loving each other despite it. I love you more than I thought I could love anyone. You can save me Annie."

For some reason this was more like an aphrodisiac to her as it was a statement that she was more than a physical love. She ignored that it may be a statement of convenience as they both knew it was not going to be forever. Even though it could be, theoretically.

Annie grabbed his face between her hands, and ran her thumbs over his 5 o'clock shadow face. This was was a lovely feeling for both of them. They both felt it.

"I love you too. This is too important to push away. I want this, I want this."

As Mitchell kissed her, hungrily, with eager caresses and lips and tongue, he knew that everything he did was a compromise but he could live with this one. He would kill for this one.

His hands were under her sweatshirt as it vanished in a cloud of muffled sparks, to be replaced by a selection of M and S underwear (again). Annie reached down the back of his jeans as far as she could, she wanted him as close as she could – she could feel him but she wanted him closer.

Mitchell paused for breath,

" You realize, don't you Annie, that we cant tell George about this - he'll never cook in this kitchen again."

Annie rested her forehead against his and smiled in relief of an avoidance of a conversation they would return to, and followed his lead.

"Well, with what I'm about to do with the tea towel, he sure as hell wont be doing the washing up for a while!"

Mitchell smiled his number one smile again for her, his eyes widened as his desire returned,

" Fuck the washing up."

And proceeded to do his best to do just that.

_C'est la vie!_


End file.
